Never Wished To See You Like This
by Arish Mudra Rakshas
Summary: Just a little something that came to me. Voldemort has a strange meeting after his death.


_A/N: I don't know why I even wrote this. It came from one of my dreams, so here it is (Yes, my fanfics originate from dreams. Call me crazy! I am!) Voldemort's too soft, I know. Humour me, please. Reviews are appreciated, even single words that tell me how I did. Thanks!_

_Arish_

Voldemort bawled out his superlative weapon, wand pointed straight at the boy's heart. '_Avada Kedavra_!' He yelled, but he indistinguishably heard another cry from the boy. Both spells met at the dead centre of the circle they had been treading, and Voldemort didn't get time enough even to voice his surprise as his own curse wiped away his wasted and abhorrent life from his hated body, finally obliterating the burden of his soul's fragments from the mortal world.

Mortal. How he had always _loathed_ that word. It was what had led him to commit acts of appalling evil, and to become what he had. All of the sins and atrocities committed by him traced their cause to circumstances alone. They were what had moulded him in such a fashion that he became the most evil wizard of all times. He had wanted to be different, to be special, and to be _happy_, like the children on the streets outside the orphanage holding hands with their parents. The orphanage was the place that had watered the seed of evil inside him; it was the place where the monster within him, which he had inherited from his family, had been given free rein. It was the place where he had learnt to give it free rein, and that had made all the difference.

Voldemort's bodily eyes closed, and his soul was transported to a dark place. He could not see anything, yet he knew he was not alone. And the moment this realization broke over him, light flickered all around him, though very little. There was a sullen grey mist all around; yet it was mist like he had never seen or created. It was as if the mist was developing into his surroundings, not as if it was simply enveloping them.

He knew what was happening at once; he had seen this place before and been here for moments before the pieces of his soul on earth had called him back to the living world. He had had time enough to ponder on this place; he had had 10 years to ponder on everything intriguing in the slightest. Skilled and intelligent wizard that he was, he had finally decided that this was the pathway to the world of the Dead. He feared going there, because Death and Dead people were the only things he had ever dreaded (albeit a certain living person too).

Now he got a clearer view of the place. It was the place he had seldom paid any attention. It was the place he had visited in his wanderings after graduation from school – a lonely carriage stood in a remote village in the mountains of the Highlands.

And walking towards him, he noticed with a sudden jolt, was a beautiful woman, with jet black hair and shockingly green eyes. She wore a nice set of Muggle clothing, and was simply graceful.

'Who are you?' Voldemort asked.

'I will tell you if _you_ tell me who _you_ are,' the lady said flatly, although the sad smile never left her face.

'I am the greatest wizard of all times, the man who conquered everybody – Lord Voldemort,' Voldemort said with as much power he could muster.

'No.'

'No?'

'No. You're not the greatest wizard of all times, although you _could_ have been. And you are most certainly not _Lord Voldemort_. You are Tom Marvolo Riddle, my son.'

Tom stood still, shocked into silence.

'Mother?'

'Yes, my dear. I've been waiting for you for so long. But I must say, I'm very sad to see you.'

For the first time in a very, very long time, Tom experienced the emotion called sadness. Not mad fury or obsessive determination – pure, serene sadness.

"I know, this place brings out your inner self. I myself was surprised when I arrived here and discovered I actually felt loathing for Tom Riddle Senior, the man who had abandoned me in time of need."

"How did you know what I was thinking?" Tom inquired.

"Never you mind. The point is, I have been waiting a long, long time for you here, and now that you're here, I only have a few minutes to give you my message and move on."

"Move on?"

"I don't really know what it means either. This place is stuffed with mysteries," said Merope Gaunt with a grin that seemed to tighten a knot in Tom's stomach.

But then the grin was replaced by the sad smile again. Merope touched Tom's face, and he felt a terrible longing for her mother.

"I had never wished to see you like this, Tom. Never."

"How can you even bear to touch me? I'm a monstrosity, I can see it now!"

"Nevertheless, you are my son. And my love for you is unconditional."

Tom cringed at those words. Then a dam inside him seemed to break, and words he would never have thought of himself of being capable to speak gushed out of his mouth.

"Nobody ever loved me, Mother. My – father – left me before I was born. You left me too. I was left in that horrible orphanage. I longed for somebody's love, but I got none. So I vowed to myself to never give any to this cruel world. I'm sorry, Mother, I'm sorry!"

All the while, Merope had been standing calmly and listening to him speak patiently. When he had finished, she pulled him into a warm hug.

"I still never wished to see you like this, my dear boy. But I love you. I will always."

With those words, the mist seemed to envelope her again, and despite Tom's shouts, she disappeared. And he discovered he was in a dark place. Absolutely dark. But the worst of his actions kept replaying themselves in front of him. He knew this torment would continue forever and beyond. His only hope was to cling to his mother's last words to him.


End file.
